


my perfectly beautiful room

by fishyspots



Series: prompts [2]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Boys In Love, Canon Compliant, Coffee In Bed, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:08:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25168222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishyspots/pseuds/fishyspots
Summary: “David,” Patrick said again. “Please wake up and spend our first morning in this apartment with me.”“You’re a monster.”“I love you.”
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: prompts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1822303
Comments: 26
Kudos: 205





	my perfectly beautiful room

**Author's Note:**

> second soft prompt making its way over here! this one was an anonymous prompt for coffee in bed. 
> 
> title is from "perfectly marvelous" from cabaret. i could've resisted, but...i chose not to.

Patrick set the mug of coffee on David’s nightstand. He’d held it near David’s head for a few seconds, but the smell did nothing to nudge David toward wakefulness. Sensing a new tactic was needed, Patrick nosed at David’s shoulder. He leaned back once David stirred and took in the way the morning light played across David’s cheek.

David grumbled something that sounded like _fight me_ and rolled away from Patrick. He buried his face in his pillow.

Patrick knew how much David liked to sleep in, but he persisted. Long experience had taught him that waking David gently was far preferable to the alternative, so he ran his fingers lightly up and down David’s arm.

David shrugged Patrick’s hand off.

“Come on, David,” Patrick said lowly. “It’s our first morning here.”

“Exactly,” David said. At least, that was Patrick’s best guess at what David said. David didn’t lift his face from his pillow to speak, so Patrick mostly got a low, stubborn mumble.

“I can’t hear you, David.”

David hummed and shifted a little, getting comfortable.

“Come on, please,” Patrick pled. “I even made breakfast.”

David rolled back toward Patrick and slung an arm over Patrick’s stomach. He opened one eye.

“What did you make?”

“Isn’t the fact that I made anything—”

“Toast is not worth getting out of bed.” David’s eye closed.

“It’s not toast.”

David groaned, then opened both eyes. Patrick brushed a bit of sleep from the corner of David’s eye.

“Gross,” David said. _Ungrateful_.

“David,” Patrick said. He let the love that was always simmering in his stomach bleed into his voice. It was his favorite word, so it wasn’t a hardship to say it the way he always wanted to say it. He leaned back as far as he could while trapped under the warmth of David’s arm and looked into David’s eyes, still bleary with exhaustion. Patrick had kept his boyfriend up late the night before, reveling in their newfound privacy. They’d taken their time, something they were rarely able to do. It usually felt too risky in Ray’s guest room or at the motel. 

Patrick couldn’t wait to do it all over again that night. Possessiveness and want warred in his mind; he felt the same way he had in Stevie’s apartment, that first night they had ever spent together. One night alone with David, and he was desperate for hundreds more. Thousands.

“David,” Patrick said again. “Please wake up and spend our first morning in this apartment with me.”

“You’re a monster.”

“I love you.”

“You’re the worst.” David was smiling, though.

Patrick would count that as a win. He laced his fingers with David’s and navigated his boyfriend’s octopus limbs to work his way out of bed. He held the cup of coffee out to David, who curled his fingers around it. The coffee had cooled a little, but it still seemed like it was drinkable—to the extent that Patrick ever found coffee drinkable, which was rare and usually induced by desperation rather than taste.

Patrick took a few steps toward the kitchen and ended up at his new countertop. That was okay, though. What the apartment lacked in size it more than made up for with a door that locked and a distinct lack of both Ray and Mrs. Rose. He could hear David banging around in the bathroom. He pulled the grocery store chocolate muffins—basically cake, but they _were_ celebrating—from where he’d hidden them in the microwave.

He made quick work of filling the kettle and setting it to boil, and it had just started to whistle when David walked back into the…room. The apartment was basically one big room.

“Hi,” David said. He did that sometimes, greeting Patrick long after he woke up. A peace offering, maybe, for the mean things he sometimes said the first time around. “I believe I was promised breakfast for being dragged out of bed at this ungodly hour.”

“Breakfast,” Patrick said, gesturing theatrically to the muffins.

David made a disagreeable sound. “You said you made breakfast.”

Patrick hummed. “I made the decision to get these muffins for breakfast.”

“Gross misuse of the term. Entrapment. False pretenses.” David paused. “Lies.”

“I didn’t know you could form this many words before eight a.m.”

“It’s not even eight?” David’s voice went high in a way that meant genuine upset, not just playing along.

Patrick had to act fast if he wanted to salvage the morning.

“We can eat the muffins in bed,” he bargained. “You’ll like these muffins. It’s basically dessert for breakfast. We have to use plates, though.”

David frowned.

“One plate.”

David did something complicated with his eyebrows.

“And I’ll make you another cup of coffee.”

David nodded once.

Patrick’s boyfriend was ridiculous.

“The usual excessive amount of sugar?”

“You’re not on safe enough ground for teasing. Eight a.m., Patrick.”

“Never stopped me before.” Patrick couldn’t resist pressing a kiss to David’s neck, just below his ear. “Grab the muffins. Meet you back in bed.”

“You’ll bring the coffee?”

“I’ll bring the coffee.”


End file.
